The New Adventures of Scully, Teenaged Wonder
by DeathAndTheJabberwocky
Summary: In which Scully Reverts, and Mulder gets a Life. Gasp.
1. What the!

Title: The New Adventures of Scully, Teenaged Wonder.

Author(s): Death and the Jabberwocky! Yay.

Summary: In Which Scully Reverts, And Mulder Gets A Life. Gasp.

Rating: Tame. Seriously. (Subject to change, depending on Death's mood. Just like the weather!)

In other words, PG. (K+)

Disclaimer: The characters and their reactions are not ours. At all. Darn it. We'd swear, but this is family friendly….for now.

Chapter One: What…the…?!

Scully stretched as she began to return to consciousness. She smiled to herself, realizing the nickname had become ingrained in her mind. She was beginning to address herself the same way Mulder did. Her smile widened at the thought of work today. They'd just finished their campaign to successfully re-open the X-Files, after a little stop in Antarctica. Now they would return to work on organizing the mess that the files had become. And of course, resuming any cases that Mulder managed to convince everyone were important.

She finished her stretching, wondering why she felt as if there were no kinks left, even after being sore for the past few days. She'd been sure there was at least a few weeks left to feel the aftereffects of the abduction. There was nothing else it could have been, even though she didn't want to admit to Mulder he was right-yet. Her hands raised to her head to run through her hair as she got out of bed. What should have been not four inches through her relatively shoulder length hair, she stopped suddenly.

There should be more there, she thought. Abruptly she wondered if it was an after affect of being in hibernation, and dismissed the idea after checking her pillow for the remains. Trying to remain calm, she walked at a brisk pace to the bathroom, and then all hell broke loose in her mind. She looked like a eighteen year old.

Her hair was in the style she'd gotten that year, before she turned nineteen. And her body was certainly the same as it had been when she was that age. There was no sign of the weight she'd gained over the years, her desperate attempt to not appear like she had an eating disorder. Even though she knew it was completely natural for her age at the time, numerous people had approached her to ask if there was a problem.

She leaned forward to inspect her face-there was no sign of the maturity she had gained with the years, either. A decade had been erased in a night. Looking closely, Scully saw that the long closed hole in her lip, and those extra in her ears, had opened up again. She cursed out loud, thinking about the years it had taken for them to go away. She certainly could not return to work like this. Vaguely wondering who had done this, or what, Scully reached the conclusion that she'd find out after she talked to Mulder.

He probably wouldn't recognize her, she realized. Her hair was usually dyed, but now it was a darker auburn, excluding the stripe of blonde on the left side, framing her face. She'd never told him about her "wild" youth. Scully sighed, and decided to retrieve the old lip ring from the jewelry box she kept on her dresser as a souvenir. The hole felt too strange without anything in it-and she wasn't about to get into work anyway, the way she was looking.

Then inspiration hit her. If she wasn't going to be able to do her job, she might as well go with this until it was over. Nothing like shocking Mulder to make her day complete. Scully grinned, not for the first time that week.

Well, if she was going to do this, Scully thought, she might as well do it right. She showered before getting dressed in the only clothes that would fit her now-the all of one outfit that was the remainder of her forgotten teen years, retrieved form a box deep in her closet. Putting in her jewelry, she paused before slipping on rings. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that her hair looked-well, bad. It was meant for a certain kind of style, after all. And that involved gel, and maybe a little wax... Smiling slightly, Scully knelt down and began to search through the cabinet under the sink.

* * *

Mulder had awoken that morning and fell off his couch, without much ritual except to groan, and began to shed his clothes on the way to the shower. He spent thirty minutes fretting over what to wear for Scully, and getting his hair to calm down. The previous weeks, after nearly loosing her, Mulder had come to the shocking realization that he was In Love with Dana Scully. He locked the door behind him and ignored the bizarre thumping noises coming from his next-door neighbors apartment. 

After fighting through the morning traffic, being cursed and honked at more times than he could count (to which he replied with a cheery, "Good morning!" and a middle finger), he arrived at the J. Edgar Hoover building. He also noticed that it looked just as depressing as ever, with the balding, middle-aged men wandering around in tacky, ill-tailored suits ("Hello, A. D. Skinner! How are you this fine morning?" "What are you up to, Mulder?").

But then, after nine-thirty in the morning came and went, with no sign of the enigmatic Dr. Scully, Mulder was beginning to worry.

When there was no answer on her cell phone, he upgraded from worrying to mildly controlled panic. Because of this (and also because, well, who doesn't like to play hooky?) he decided to take a sick day for the afternoon, after picking up some chicken soup for Scully (just in case).

Unfortunately, he managed to time his entrance to the cafeteria at the same time as the hourly tour group. He usually tried to avoid them, but it was hard to know when they might be delayed and show up unexpectedly. Needless to say, he was surprised when an apparent punk rocker teenage girl approached him and began to grab his elbow and lead him away from the tour.

"Hey, Mulder. Any idea what's going on?" she asked. Her hair was sticking up in back, just enough to give a slept-in appearance. Numerous piercings, which would have looked just wrong on some people, were obviously working for her. Wait, what the hell was he thinking, she was probably more than a decade younger than him! Just then he registered that she'd called him Mulder-something only one person did with such a tone. He looked past the hair, the earrings, the frayed jeans, and tight shirt with a band name on it (some group called the Buzzcocks) -to the nose that was the same, suddenly, the blue eyes, the mouth, and the quirked eyebrow.

"Scully?!"


	2. Back and Forth

Authors Note: Rating has changed, due to the fact that we are really NOT pure-minded individuals. Be warned, there is slight language and innuendo in this chapter, and this probably isn't the end of it.

Chapter Two: Back and Forth

Mulder could tell that the satisfaction was almost to an extreme for Scully.

"Mulder, is something wrong?" The dry tone to her voice made him laugh.

"Yes, Scully, something is Very Wrong. You see, this isn't the weekend. And, wait a minute, the FBI does not even sanction Casual Friday. I do believe that the Assistant Director will have something to say regarding your appearance."

"Mulder?"

"Yes, Scully?"

"Bite Me."

"With more pleasure than you would imagine, Scully."

"Too bad we're in a public place. Speaking of public…" Scully nodded in the direction of the tour guide on their way over, motioning to an agent to keep an eye out.

"I'm your visiting cousin," she whispered quickly, then turned away from Mulder, grabbing his jacket's sleeve and pulling him towards the door. He caught on faster than either of them could have hoped.

"So, how's Aunt Margaret? His voice was casual as they bypassed the agent heading towards them. Casual and loud enough to be heard.

"Oh, you know my mom. Fighting evil with love and peace in her everlasting quest for the galaxy to be rid of those people who cut in the check-out lines." Mulder laughed, and Scully could tell it wasn't faked.

They made their way through the agency, to Mulder's car, and had the doors closed before they started talking about anything important. Scully was the first to speak, at once getting to the matter at hand.

"Do you have anything that could help us at your place, or should we get the Lone Gunmen?" she asked, as he started the car.

"I might have something. First, though, we'll have to research all the people who have it in for us- or rather, you." he answered. "We can do that at my place."

"Gee, Mulder, who would have it in for us? After all, I'm such a nice person, and you're **so** amusing at the company picnic."

"Don't mock, Scully, I'm the one driving. We have to start somewhere." Mulder turned onto a side street, trying to look around for a tail without Scully noticing.

"You're right. Anything is welcome now. However much fun it is to take a trip down memory lane…" She trailed off.

"It's better to have your own life." Mulder winced inwardly, because he knew that they were going to start with the banter. However much he was hardened to joking with Scully, it still shook him and gave him doubts to be insulted by her- even in jest.

"For those of us who have lives, Mulder. You seem to be losing your touch with the reality of-"

"Yes, yes, my status as the FBI's Most Unwanted. I get it, Scully. You don't have to remind me." Mulder, hoping his partner wouldn't get suspicious, turned down an alley and cautiously went through to the other side, then pulled out and continued on.

"Sorry, I know. You do have your own little world. I shouldn't scare you out of it-" A faint smile flickered across Mulder's face as she spoke, and he looked at her for a moment, admiring the view- she was leaning over to the radio at the moment, and he saw the light dancing over her hair- he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.

"But you do. Frequently." She fixed him with a stare, and Mulder could see his partner was trying not to laugh.

"Yes, Mulder. That's because it's so much fun. Remember fun?" A loud song started, something that Mulder thought was by the Clash.

"Yes. Then you came into my life. Come on, Scully, all you do is work, work, work all the time. At least I have friends. And what's with the music?"

"Mulder, special friends don't count. Like invisible ones, or Frohike, and really, I think you two rode the short bus home." Scully was avoiding the question, but that was fine with him. Mulder just wished he had a camera, in case she started singing along.

"Are you done? We have work to do, Scully," he said, thinking that would be the end of it.

"Fine, I'll let you off the hook- but that just gives me more time to think of insults," she said. _Oh, this is just too good. I have the perfect quip- must not use, must keep driving…_

"May I ask, Scully, whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?"

"Pride and Prejudice? Mulder, is there something I should know? I mean, I've had suspicions, but really, we're all adults- no, wait…never mind. I probably shouldn't ask."

"Why? Don't want your bubble burst? I know you have crushes on older men, but I thought I was a little young for you. I mean, I am only thirty-six." He was on a roll, but thinking about even the implication that Scully had slept with another man was maddening…_wait, I can't act jealous, she'll figure it out._

"Well, damn it, Mulder, now I have to return that birthday card. It clearly has three candles. I must have focusing on your mental capacity, not your physical age." She looked pleased with herself.

"Aw, you got me a card? Scully, really, it's too much. I only got you an 'I'll do anything to pass' mug. Now I'll have to get the matching push-up bra." _Burn! At least she didn't start by mentioning that man's name. But now… damn, I should have kept my mouth shut._

"Mulder, really, for that you'd have to be of legal age to get into a store that sells that kind of thing. And I do believe they'd think your credentials to be forged. Besides, I already have one. Jack was kind enough to get the underwear, too."

"Weren't you cold up in that cabin?" Scully was looking out the window, so she missed the pained expression on Mulder's face, and the music made the tone of his voice hard to tell.

"No, we kept each other warm."

"Ok, Scully, I give. No more. Dear god, please, no more." _If that man wasn't dead, I'd kill him, just for the thought that he touched her._ Mulder added the last part of the sentence so she wouldn't think that something was wrong, as he parked up the street to his apartment. Unfortunately, Scully knew him better than that.

"Mulder, what's wrong?" Her expression was one of mild concern, all signs of joking gone from her voice.

_Damn, how do I explain this? I can't tell her the truth- I can just hear her quoting the rule book at me, _Mulder thought. _Not that she needs to. I've read that part enough. _He looked over at Scully, and realized that while he was thinking, her brow had furrowed in confusion. _Think, think, what to say…_

"So, any idea of what's causing this?" He asked, hoping to avoid the subject. 


	3. Getting Nowhere

Scully decided to drop the subject, knowing that if she pushed, he would continue to evade answering. She sighed.

"I don't know. It could be the aftereffects of Antarctica, though I'd need samples to prove anything and find a cure, which would be hard to acquire, considering."

"And what exactly happened in Antarctica?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't aliens, Mulder. We all know how crazy that sounds," She tried not to laugh.

"What's crazy is you denying what you saw with your own two eyes. I thought you were a scientist, and scientists believe in the cold hard truth." He looked smug, as they got out of the car and walked into the building.

"Believing in something doesn't make it real. You prove that everyday." Scully waited as he fumbled for his keys, as always trying to locate the correct one.

"How do I prove that, Scully?" Mulder said to her, then mumbled, "No, not that one, that's the women's bathroom at the Bureau…."

"Well, first there was the hundred-year-he old, liver eating, shape-shifting mutant." Scully indeed was hard pressed to find a case where Mulder wasn't right about some aspect of his bizarre theories. He found the right key, and pushed the door open for her with a flourish.

"Which we proved was true. He came at you through your air vent." She felt eyes at her back, and surreptitiously glanced behind her, startled to find that Mulder was staring at her ass. Scully quickly looked forward, and forced herself not to blush.

"Yes, well, then there was-" She began, trying to think of anything, other than the hunger in his gaze.

"Now Scully, we could also talk about other things. Nice things, like puppies and pretty little flowers, maybe?" She didn't hide her amused and, truth be told, flattered smile.

"I don't know about you, sometimes, Mulder."

"What, what'd I say?"

--

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Scully returned with a calm tone. Mulder, still obviously confused, followed Scully into the apartment flipping on the lamp near the door. Mulder glanced back at her, warily, as he entered the long-disused bedroom. Maybe disused wasn't the right word. It was used, just as a storage unit, rather than for its nominal function.

Without having to search, there _was _a system after all, based loosely off the Dewey Decimal system, with dead presidents thrown in, Mulder reached into the closet and pulled out, with a slight flourish because Scully wasn't looking, an old sage green sweater Scully had left at his place. The reason she gave for leaving was that, with him, she never knew when she would end up soaked and freezing after nearly being killed by a giant fluke-worm, needing something warm and dry.

The sweater had been used, once or twice, _of course she'd been right, _and there were a few red hairs adorning its shoulders, and a whiff of her perfume, which made him involuntarily close his eyes and inhale.

He tossed it through his door at her. "It's cold out, and I don't want Frohike to ogle your soft teenage graces." He half called to her, before pocketing a rolled up magazine and exiting.

Scully had the famous raised eyebrow gracing her face.

"I saw that, Mulder. What is that magazine? I'm sure that's the real reason we're here."

"It's nothing, Scully, just a magazine I promised Frohike." Mulder's face was the image of innocence.

"It's a porn magazine, isn't it?"

"He wanted to peruse a certain article of particular literary merit," Mulder assured her.

"There are no articles of any merit in those magazines, Mulder. Remember, I had older brothers."

Mulder couldn't really argue that point, so he tried another tactic.

"C'mon, Scully, have a heart. You know he won't ever see a naked woman in any other context." He wheedled. Scully smiled and relented with a sigh.

"Only if you promise to keep him from groping me," She cautioned.

"I think I can promise you that." Mulder's smile was warm, and his heart protective. Mulder didn't think he'd be responsible for anything he did to his friend, should he seriously attempt to molest her.

They exited the building, after Mulder went through the motions of locking the door.

"Not that it helps," Scully faintly heard him mumble, which amused her to no end. She allowed herself to roll her eyes- after his back was turned, of course. What she forgot was how well he knew her.

"I heard that, Scully. Don't think I didn't."

"I didn't say anything, Mulder."

"You were rolling your eyes. The distinct texture of the silence gave you away." Scully frowned, wondering how much of that was a bluff, and how much was him knowing her too well.

"Stop frowning," he said, without turning. "It'll give you wrinkles." Scully frowned more.

"You're full of crap. You can see my reflection in the elevator door," she said.

"Language, Scully! Wow, maybe the teenage appearance is getting to your head!" Mulder teased. "Are you reverting?" Scully laughed, but had Mulder turned around, he would have been able to tell she was worried. As it was, none of her concern showed in her voice as they stepped out of the elevator and walked to the front doors of the building.

"Come on, Mulder, we're all adults- nevermind, we've already been down this road."

"That we have," he said, opening her car door for her. "That we have." This time it was Scully who changed the subject, as he started the car, and pulled away from the curb, covertly glancing behind them to look for possible followers. She crossed her arms and spoke.

"Hey, weren't we supposed to make a 'List of People Out to Get Us'?" She queried, and glanced over as he began to dig in his pockets, barely managing to do this and stay in his lane.

"No problem," he said, in the midst of holding it up triumphantly and paying a little more attention to the road. "I've got mine." Mulder handed it to Scully, who unfolded the water-logged document, with something that seemed like coffee making it barely legible.

"Mulder, what did you do to this poor, pitiable piece of paper? I can hardly make out the first name! And, while we're at it, your handwriting is a mixture of chicken scratch and cuneiform. What could have possessed you to handwrite this?"

"Simple, sweet Scully- it is harder for people to track down one "pitiable" piece of paper than it is to hack into my computer. And, I happen to like my handwriting. Makes it harder to read," he added, never loosing the mocking tone.

"All this alliteration is amusing, actually," she said, "but let's get down to business. Now, this first name-" Mulder cut her off mid-sentence.

"Robert Chase. Doubtful it's him- no creativity or influence, not to mention funds." Scully looked at him sideways.

"No, he's in jail- don't you remember?" She glanced at Mulder, who was still acting like the hounds of hell were, well, hounding them.

"Got out last week. C'mon, Scully, keep up with your bad guys!" he chastised lightly, making a sharp turn.

"What about-" Scully began.

"Alaska."

"What? How do you know who I'm talking about?"

"I just do. She's in Alaska."

"You memorized the list, didn't you?"

"...Maybe. Hey, I can't help it. Not my fault."

"Ah, yes. This so-called photographic memory. Tell me, Mulder, does this work with everything?" Mulder resisted glancing at her, reminding himself that he should pay attention to the road. However much he didn't care about his own wellbeing, Scully's was more important than anything to him.

"Yes," he said, suddenly remembering that she had asked a question. He decided to cool off on the automotive acrobatics for awhile. Besides, he realized they were pulling up to the Lone Gunmen's headquarters. He parallel parked haphazardly and turned the car off, getting out along with Scully. They walked in tandem to the door.


End file.
